


Eyes Wide Open

by menel



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Depowered after a month in captivity and a botched mission, Scott has retreated into himself. Nearly everyone is walking on eggshells around him and it’s up to Logan to bring their Fearless Leader back.</p><p>Written for the prompt, "Surprise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t decide on a particular X-Men universe so this fic is a strange hybrid of the movies (because I tend to see the actors in the roles of Cyclops and Wolverine) and the comics. The timeline vaguely takes place after X2 but completely disregards X3. It also reinstates Warren as an original member of the X-Men.

“You’re turning into a ghost, haunting the hallways at night like this,” a familiar voice said, followed by a draft of wind as Ororo Munroe gracefully landed on the roof of the school. 

“This isn’t exactly a hallway, Ororo,” Scott replied, automatically holding out a beer as Ororo settled down beside him on the tiled roof. Scott had been half-expecting her. Only Ororo would follow him up to the roof this late at night. Everyone else, save for the Professor, was giving him space and keeping their distance. 

“You had to pass through enough hallways in order to get here,” Ororo told him, accepting the still cold bottle. “Children are afraid of the boogeyman Scott, since he only comes out at night when they’re safe in their beds.” 

“We have a handful of children who don’t sleep at all,” Scott reminded her. He paused. “Is that your way of telling me that the children think of me as the boogeyman?” 

“No, that’s my way of telling you that the children miss you and that they associate you with the day, not the night.” It was Ororo’s turn to pause as she eyed the unfamiliar green beer bottle. “Moosehead?” she questioned. 

“From Logan’s stash,” Scott explained. 

“You know where Logan’s stash is?” she asked, sounding rather impressed. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” 

The look on Ororo’s face was obviously a ‘no.’ 

“Ah, well,” Scott said with an uncharacteristic shrug. “I think of it as ‘borrowing’ since I always replace whatever I take.” 

“Is this any good?” Ororo asked as she popped open the bottle. 

Scott nodded. “Canadian imported beer,” he stated. “It’s the one thing Logan _is_ a snob about.” 

Ororo gave a light laugh before drinking from the bottle and nodding her head in approval. A short silence fell between them as they looked out over the peaceful manicured grounds of the school.

“The students really _do_ miss you,” Ororo said again after a while. 

“I’m sure they miss my math classes,” Scott said, a bit more dryly than he had intended. 

“I’ve seen how Henry teaches differentials,” Ororo told him. “Believe me, they _miss_ you.” 

While the comment didn’t quite make him laugh, Scott did give Ororo a small sideways smile. Henry had begun teaching his math classes during his absence. While Blue was very enthusiastic and amiable in class, he did have a tendency to get carried away. 

“How’s the team?” Scott asked eventually, knowing full well that Ororo had assumed responsibility in that area. She’d taken over the training in the Danger Room exercises as well as leading the team in the field. Scott had brought himself up to speed on all the missions they’d undertaken since his absence, including the failed rescue mission that had gone in search of him. 

Ororo seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Managing,” she said at last. “It’s always . . . tricky . . . finding the right balance between new members and veteran X-Men. Then, of course, there’s Logan.” 

“I think you handle his charming personality well,” Scott said, which was polite-Summers-speak for _You don’t take any of his shit_. 

Ororo knew this too judging by the smile she gave him. “He’s been with us longer than I thought he would,” she admitted, “even after Jean . . .” She trailed off. 

Jean was still a desperately uncomfortable topic, a raw wound in Scott’s mind and heart that would never heal but he had learned to mask his grief well, as he did with all things. “Has Logan been more difficult than usual?” he asked. 

“Yes and no,” was Ororo’s reply. “I still don’t know what to make of him. There are times when I wonder if he’s committed to the school and our vision here, but then he goes and starts teaching survival classes. The kids love it. As a practical course, it’s been a huge hit with them.” 

Scott nodded. He still took care of the bulk of the administrative duties of running the school, although it had largely fallen to Ororo to handle any face-to-face interaction, particularly with the parents. He knew about Logan’s survival course since approval of any new classes to the curriculum had to go through him. He’d been surprised, and pleasantly so, when the proposal had appeared on his desk. Before his captivity, he’d already considered asking Logan to take on a class and he’d come up with some ideas but hadn’t yet had an opportunity to approach the other man. Now the survivalist course had been Logan’s initiative and Scott had gladly approved it. 

“Logan’s even more puzzling when it comes to training,” Ororo was saying. 

“Still a disruptive influence?” 

“Putting he and Warren in the Danger Room together is a recipe for disaster,” Ororo replied with a shake of her head. 

This time Scott had to stifle a laugh. He could readily imagine what that disaster looked like and he didn’t envy Ororo’s position as mediator. _That should be you_ , a voice nagged. _You should be mediating between Angel and Wolverine. It’s what leaders do._ Scott buried that voice ruthlessly. 

Warren Worthington III, a.k.a. Angel, had returned to the X-Men, although Scott didn’t know for how long. Warren had been one of the original members of the team, together with Ororo, Henry, Jean and himself but Warren had eventually left to help his father run Worthington Industries, one of the largest and most powerful corporations in the country. Through Warren, Worthington Industries had remained a staunch supporter of the school, although Mr. Worthington Sr. was not particularly enamored with mutants. 

Once Warren had heard of Scott’s disappearance, he’d returned to join in the search efforts. Since Scott returned, Warren had stayed on to help with the stability of the school and the team. Scott was grateful for his help, even though he knew that the friction between Warren and Logan was palpable. Wolverine didn’t appear to be a fan of so-called ‘pretty boys’ at all if his reaction to both Scott and Warren was any indication. 

“Aside from Warren and Logan,” Scott prodded. “How are the team dynamics?” 

“If you’re asking me if Logan follows orders,” Ororo said dryly, “then the safest answer would be, ‘When it suits him.’ Iceman actually reprimanded him today in the Danger Room. He said, ‘Cyclops would never have done that.’ You should’ve seen Logan’s face.” 

“I’m more impressed that mild-mannered Bobby Drake said anything at all,” Scott admitted. 

“He looks up to you, Scott,” Ororo said simply. “We all do. You’ve trained the team well.” She paused. “It’s still _your_ team,” she added after a moment. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Scott nodded, running his thumb along the moist logo of the Moosehead brew. _Whenever he was ready_ , he thought. He just wasn’t sure when that was going to be.

* * * * *

On the surface, the mission had been simple. Through Cerebro, the Professor had targeted two mutants (twins as it turned out) who had come into their mutant abilities simultaneously. Their powers were interlinked and unwieldy. Naturally, they were frightened by the destruction they were inadvertently causing. It was clear that the twins were a danger to themselves as well as to those around them. The Professor had dispatched both Logan and himself to go pick them up and bring them back to the school before they hurt anyone else, or worse, before the government got their hands on them or the Brotherhood of Mutants stepped in.

“We’re not to harm them,” Scott had told Logan sternly in the Blackbird. 

“And if they don’t come quietly?” 

“We’ll try _talking_ to them first, Wolverine. They’re scared. As long as we can get through to them, I don’t think we’ll meet much resistance.” 

As it turned out, Scott had only been partially correct. The new mutants were scared and Scott, in his calm and placating manner, had been able to get through to them. Unfortunately, they’d also met a boatload of resistance, not from the young mutants, but from an unexpected third party that had crashed their meeting. It wasn’t clear whether the operatives were sanctioned by the government, but they were highly trained military or former military-turned mercenaries. The firefight Cyclops and Wolverine had unexpectedly found themselves in while trying to protect the twins had been intense and a losing battle. They were grossly outnumbered and Cyclops wouldn’t authorize the unnecessary loss of life, even though Wolverine could’ve gone on a rampage and shred them all to pieces, and Cyclops himself could’ve lobotomized the lot of them and left them in a crater with one forceful beam. In the end, Cyclops had created a diversion, allowing Wolverine to get away with the twins, but the diversion had lead to his own capture. 

“I’m not leaving you!” Wolverine had yelled. 

“Come _back_ for me,” Cyclops had ordered.

* * * * *

_Come back for me._

It was the one order that Wolverine had taken straight to heart. Despite his seeming ‘Me first’ attitude that was attached to his persona of being a loner, it was against his principles to leave anyone behind and that was doubly true of their Fearless Leader. The damn Boy Scout was just so willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. If anyone should’ve been left behind, it should’ve been _him_. Then he wouldn’t have had to fly the damn Blackbird either. 

Logan still hated flying and it didn’t matter if he was the one behind the controls. He’d stopped ragging on Cyclops’ ability to fly (which was far and away the best among the X-Men) once he’d had to learn how to fly himself. Flying took finesse, a trait that Wolverine did not have in abundance. 

“Why do I have to learn how to fly again?” he’d argued when the flying lessons with Cyclops had started. 

“It’s important,” Cyclops had replied. “You need to be able to fly the Blackbird in case of an emergency.” 

Logan hated to admit it, but the ambush and escape with the twins certainly qualified as an emergency, and he managed to get them all back to Westchester with minimal bumps and scrapes to the Blackbird. God, Scott loved the Blackbird and there’d be hell to pay if Logan had so much as chipped her paint. Logan would willingly deal with Scott’s hissy fit as soon as he got their Fearless Leader back. 

Unfortunately, the Professor had curbed his first instinct to jump right back in the Blackbird with Storm and the rest of the team to go after Cyclops. Xavier had been monitoring their progress through Cerebro and he had a good idea of what had transpired, while Logan filled the others in on what had happened. Scott’s mutant signature had gone dark and Xavier could no longer locate him. 

“We still need to go back,” Logan had argued. “The original site will have the best clues for figuring out where Scott may have been taken.” 

“That place is crawling with police officers and other government agencies now,” Henry had said thoughtfully. “Not to mention the media given the magnitude of the firefight and the havoc the twins caused beforehand. We may have to wait until things settle down.” 

“Then we’ll go in covertly,” Logan had persisted. “Isn’t that what we do? We’re a _covert_ team.” 

Ororo had looked at him sympathetically, as though she were aware of something that Logan wasn’t aware of himself. Although Logan didn’t flinch under her gaze, he could feel himself growing a bit warm, realizing that his behavior and determination to get Cyclops back – the man he was always butting heads with – might seem a bit strange to the other X-Men. The Professor was giving him a rather knowing look as well, which was silently infuriating Logan even more. In the end, however, Logan had won out. A small team comprised of himself, Storm and Nightcrawler went back to survey the site and see what information they could gather, while the Professor, Henry and Bobby Drake with his hacking skills tried to find out what they could through more ‘traditional’ outlets. 

Both efforts, unfortunately, returned minimal gains. It was soon apparent that Cyclops and Wolverine had been ambushed by non-government personnel, unless they were part of a black ops team, which was also a possibility. Cyclops’ trail had gone cold, but what was perhaps most worrying was that he couldn’t be located through Cerebro. 

“He could have been taken to a facility that’s being shielded from Cerebro,” Storm had said. “With the rapid developments in technology, it isn’t that unusual.” 

“If that’s meant to be reassuring,” Logan had growled. 

Storm held up her hands in a placating manner. “Easy Wolverine,” she said. “Cyclops is very capable. If the opportunity presents itself, he’ll try to get word to us or attempt an escape.” 

Logan knew all this to be true, but it didn’t do much to ease his concerns. He hated any kind of mutant experimentation or forced captivity, and the thought of Cyclops undergoing any of that was enough to make him see red. He’d nodded brusquely in reply, leaving Storm and Nightcrawler to make one more round of the area.

* * * * *

A week went by without any clues on Cyclops whereabouts. The Professor had used his considerable influence to send out feelers in both mainstream and underground avenues, but the inquiries lead to false leads or dead ends. Meanwhile, the twins were settling in at the school, trying to return to a relatively normal life even as they learned more about their newfound powers.

By the start of the second week, Warren Worthington III had turned up at the school. He’d heard about Scott’s disappearance and was there to offer his help. The original X-Man was greeted warmly by Ororo, Henry and Xavier, but there was something about him that immediately rubbed Logan the wrong way. Warren was obviously a good guy, but he gave off a vibe that marked him as part of the competition. The competition for what, Logan wasn’t sure and he refused to dwell on what his animal instincts were trying to tell him. 

While no one had given up on finding Scott, it was Logan, more than anyone else, who spearheaded the search, chasing down every scrap of information that fell into their hands. By the third week, a gloom had started to settle over the school. Scott had left a gaping hole behind and Logan was made fully aware of how Summers affected every aspect of life at the school and with the X-Men. His absence had almost taken on a physical presence that could not be ignored. Logan felt Scott’s absence acutely. He hadn’t realized until now how much he had come to depend on the other man in the smallest of ways. There was a stability and security that Scott somehow provided that Logan had not found in a long time. In some ways, Summers’ absence was worse than Jean’s death. Jean’s death brought with it a kind of closure, whereas Scott’s absence had begun to feel like a bottomless void. 

At the end of the month, after chasing down another futile lead, Logan had wound up at The Brink, a rundown seedy bar far out of Westchester. It was the sort of place he could _never_ imagine Summers’ at but even that thought couldn’t make him smile. His helplessness angered him more instead and he ordered another double of whatever the hell it was he was drinking. As he sat at the bar purposely looking for a fight, a kid who didn’t belong in that hellhole at all, pulled on the sleeve of his worn leather jacket. 

“What?” Logan snarled. 

Impressively, the kid didn’t cower or flinch. He simply held out a slim box. “I was told to give this to you,” he said. 

The kid left immediately, leaving Logan irritated and perplexed as he sat at the bar counter holding a nondescript box. When he opened the box, everything changed. Inside was the all-too familiar visor that he hadn’t seen in a month. Logan looked up, but the kid was gone. He was about to rise and follow the kid’s scent out the door when a folded piece of paper underneath the visor caught his eye. He took it out and opened it. In black laser print were written the words, “Lose something?” Underneath the question were a series of numbers. He recognized them as coordinates. A minute later, he’d paid his tab and was on his bike – Cyke’s bike – finally headed towards the most promising lead of all.

* * * * *

After contacting Henry and double-checking the location of the coordinates, Logan drove all night to get there. He tried not to be discouraged when the Professor informed him that Scott’s mutant signature could still not be found by Cerebro. It meant that Scott was not at the location that had been provided, but Logan would see this lead through as he had done with all the others. Scott’s visor was tucked safely in the inner pocket of his jacket and it gave him a strange kind of comfort. Scott felt nearer to him somehow.

The first light of dawn was just breaking when Logan arrived at his destination. The coordinates had led him to a small park. It was so early that even the morning joggers had yet to appear, but there was a lone figure sitting on one of the park benches. As Logan approached the person from behind, the scent that carried back to him nearly made his heart leap into his throat. It was Summers, definitely Summers. Logan’s steps quickened until he was standing by the park bench, almost too afraid to check if the man sitting there was really the one he’d been searching for. He might not be able to take the disappointment of another false lead. 

He spoke out loud, keeping his gaze trained on the flock of birds that were just taking off for the skies. “Been sittin’ there all night?” 

“No,” was the simple reply. 

The tightness in Logan’s chest was easing. It was the familiar voice to match the familiar scent. He hazarded a look to his left only to find Scott looking right back at him. 

“You look like you’ve been driving all night,” the other man noted. 

Logan could barely register the words. Of all the things he could have hoped for and expected upon finding Scott, this had never even been on the list. It explained why Scott’s visor was tucked securely in the pocket of his jacket. It also explained why Scott’s mutant signature couldn’t be detected by Cerebro. 

“Your eyes,” Logan said, completely stunned. “They’re blue.” 

He felt like a total idiot as soon as the words left his mouth, but what else was there to say? He had no idea what color Scott’s eyes were beyond the red tinge he occasionally caught behind the ruby quartz lenses that Scott wore. He’d wondered in the past what color Scott’s eyes may have been but to see their crystal clear blue for himself was nothing less than shocking. 

Those same blue eyes looked amused, almost on the verge of laughing at him and Logan was struck by how disarming Scott was like this. There was no need to try and decipher the other man’s mood through the set of his jaw or the often-closed nature of his body language. How many times had Scott been secretly laughing at him without his knowledge because Logan couldn’t read the expression in his eyes? 

“Yours are brown,” Scott deadpanned back, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. 

Logan sat heavily on the bench beside the other man. “That’s a helluva greeting, Slim,” he shot back. 

Scott looked straight ahead as he said, “What were you expecting? A hug?” 

Logan bit back what was probably going to be a cutting response, crossing his arms instead as he stared stubbornly in front of him. A hug would’ve been absurd, but truthfully, not unwelcome. Even now it was taking a remarkable amount of willpower not to crush the other man to him after weeks of futile searching. The relief he felt at finally finding Summers was mixing with the irritation that the other man always managed to stir in him, together with an unfamiliar confusion at Scott’s condition. What had _happened_ to the other man? He didn’t look the worse for wear, but how had he been depowered? Had he been experimented on? Was the loss of his ability permanent? These questions among others had distracted him so thoroughly that he barely felt the pressure of Summers’ hand on his shoulder. 

“You really do look like hell,” Scott was saying. “There’s a motel across the street. We should go there. We’ll contact the Professor and ask him to send the Blackbird for us and you can rest. It’ll save us driving all the way back to Westchester.” 

“Is that where you’ve been?” Logan asked sharply. “At a motel?” 

Scott shook his head. “No,” he replied, standing up. “How’s my bike?” 

“Could use some gas,” Logan answered, thankful for the familiar pattern of their banter. 

“Figures,” Scott answered. 

“What the hell happened to you?” 

Scott held out his hand. “I’ll explain everything,” he promised. “Let’s go.” 

Logan eyed the proffered hand almost suspiciously. He had an irrational fear that it would disappear, that Scott being with him now was nothing more than an illusion or a mirage, a trick of his mind. But the hand didn’t waver and when Logan finally grasped it, he was reassured by the equally firm grip that closed over his own hand. He stood up, unwilling to let go. 

Scott didn’t seem to mind and he tugged Logan in the direction of the motel that he had mentioned. Logan fell into step beside him, not thinking it strange that he was holding hands with Cyclops in the early morning light of a peaceful park. Everything about the scene was tinged with a surreal glow or perhaps it was something that came out of the pages of a bad romance novel, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that Cyclops was back and Logan was by his side.


	2. Chapter 2

“You should totally ask him.” 

“What? Why me?” 

“Because you have a special relationship with him.” 

“A special relationship? God, you make it sound so creepy. He’s old enough to be my dad.” 

“Or your great, great granddad.” 

There was a stifled laugh. 

Logan shut the refrigerator door and popped open the bottle of beer that he’d pulled out. It was some weak American brew. Budweiser, maybe? Someone had drunk the last of the Moosehead, so he was left with this. He knew that someone was likely Summers, but it was also for that very reason that he was willing to let it go. Summers could get away with murder these days and Logan would probably be the last person to call him out on it. 

“Ask me what?” he said abruptly, just as Bobby and Marie reached the kitchen doorway. 

Both teenagers stopped suddenly and looked at each other a little guiltily. Logan’s keen hearing had picked up their conversation for the better part of their trip down the hallway.

“Ask me what?” Logan repeated. 

“It’s Movie Night,” Bobby blurted out. 

“And Ms. Munroe and Mr. Worthington were supposed to be the chaperones,” Marie added. 

_Ah, supposed to be_. Logan knew where this was headed. 

“But then Ms. Munroe got called away on some school business,” Bobby continued. 

“And Mr. Worthington has a last-minute appointment with some investors in his father’s company,” Marie went on. 

“So, we were hoping that maybe you could . . .” Bobby trailed off. 

“What about Blue?” Logan interrupted. 

“Mr. McCoy?” Marie said. “We can’t even get him out of his lab.” 

_Typical_ , Logan thought.

Movie Night had become something of an institution at the school. Jean had started it with her love for old movies (although that didn’t mean that the kids were always watching classic Hollywood films) and Scott, of course, supported anything that she proposed. So, every week (or every other week as schedules allowed), a group of kids would troop to the cinema with adult chaperones to make sure no one got into trouble. More often than not, Scott and Jean were the chaperones (Logan had always suspected that they turned it into some kind of date night – it would be just like them to bring the ‘kids’ along), but occasionally Ororo and Jean would take the kids out. Once or twice, Logan had noticed how Movie Night had also turned into an all-girls affair.

In the past few weeks, chaperoning responsibilities had fallen to Ororo and Warren. In hindsight, Logan realized that Warren and Scott must have teamed up in the past as well. He could tell that those two were close. It nagged at him for an inexplicable reason. However, it was a sign of desperate times if Bobby and Marie were approaching him now. Logan had never volunteered for Movie Night. There had been no need since someone else had always been there to take care of it. He contemplated this as he took a drink of his beer, both Bobby and Marie watching him expectantly. 

“You need two chaperones,” Logan said eventually. 

“We were thinking,” Bobby said a little nervously, exchanging a glance with Marie. “Well, we were thinking that since Piotr is a little older than us that maybe he could qualify as the second chaperone.”

Both kids looked and sounded so hopeful that Logan felt a pang of guilt at crushing their idea but he shook his head. Rules were rules. Geezus, he was starting to sound like Summers. 

“Ya need two teachers,” he told them. Of course, as soon as the words left his mouth, he thought of an idea of his own. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll talk to Scott. See if he’s free.” 

Marie’s eyes looked as wide as saucers. “Mr. Summers?” she said. “Do you really think you could get him to chaperone?” 

The hope in Marie’s voice went well beyond the notion that Movie Night might not be cancelled. Logan could sense how much she missed Scott – how much all of the kids missed Scott – and getting Summers to chaperone with him would be a huge boost, bringing with it a sense of normality for all of them. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Logan said. 

“Can we tell the others?” Bobby asked him brightly. 

“Hold off on that,” Logan warned them, not wanting to get their hopes too high. “Let me run this by Scott first.” 

“Thanks Logan,” Marie said, ambushing him with a quick hug before he could even react. “You’re the best.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled. “Get outta here before I change my mind.”

Marie wasn’t fooled by his gruffness and she beamed at him as she reached for Bobby’s hand with one of her own thin-laced gloved ones and pulled him back down the hallway. 

Logan internally sighed as he watched the kids go, taking a long swig of the too bland beer. He decided he was better off finishing the beer before seeking Summers out. Besides, he knew precisely where to find the other man since Scott had made it a habit of spending almost all his time in the sublevels of the mansion since his return. 

It was the kiss, Logan reflected when he tossed his empty beer bottle into the trash, which had changed everything between them. The kiss had taken them both by surprise, perhaps Logan a little less so since he had been its instigator, but still . . . kissing Cyclops the morning he was found? Definitely not SOP.

* * * * *

The motel opposite the park that Scott had mentioned turned out to be more of a bed & breakfast style place. It was nice, quaint and clearly meant for tourists.

“You’ll have to take care of registration,” Scott told him when they stepped inside the reception area. “I haven’t got my wallet or any ID for that matter.” 

Logan nodded, really taking a good look at Summers for the first time. Obviously, he wasn’t dressed in the black leather of their X-Men uniform. Instead, he was wearing an olive green t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. It was the most stripped down and casual that Logan had ever seen him. He didn’t think Summers even _owned_ a pair of jeans. 

Registration was quick and soon they were walking down a country-style hallway towards their room. 

“Are you hungry?” Scott asked as they passed the large breakfast room. “We could have a bite to eat.” 

Logan’s response was to grab Scott’s hand again, all but dragging him down the rest of the way to their room. For some reason, it had become very important to get Scott into a room.

The reason became abundantly clear once they were inside. No sooner had the door shut than Logan had pinned Scott against it. Logan hadn’t been planning to do that, at least, not _consciously_. Scott’s muffled surprise was soon silenced by Logan’s kiss, which was bruising and hard, tinged with a touch of desperation. If Scott hadn’t been depowered, Logan thought there was a good chance that he would’ve been blasted across the room, but as it was Scott took control of the kiss, slowing the tempo, and easing away the desperation that Logan thought would engulf him. When Logan’s hands made their way under Scott’s olive green t-shirt to make contact with bare skin, Scott put his own hand on Logan’s chest to stop him. 

“Wait,” he said. 

Logan paused. “What?” he asked, a bit irritably. 

Scott hesitated, his eyes flicking to the bed behind them. Logan was leaning in again, but a firm push of Scott’s hand against his chest stopped him once more. Logan eyed him warily. 

“Let’s move to the bed,” Scott suggested. 

That was _not_ what Logan had been expecting the other man to say, but it sounded like a fine idea to him. He allowed Scott to push him off and then walk him backwards to the bed where he eventually landed with a soft thud. He watched as Summers made quick work of his shoes and socks. Logan did the same before moving back into the center of the bed. 

_Fuck_ , he thought, transfixed by the sight of Summers stripping his t-shirt and then unbuttoning his jeans. _They were really going to do this_.

Logan took the opportunity to make a quick map of Summers’ body. There were no signs of torture as far as he could see. Scott’s skin looked smooth and unblemished, as firm and tone as Logan remembered it whenever he’d come across the other man shirtless in the locker room or out by the pool. He watched as Scott finally got on the bed, wearing only white boxers (he’d always imagined that Summers would wear briefs, preferably the tighter the better) and crawled to where Logan was, eventually straddling the other man. Logan sat up and met him halfway. Scott didn’t object when Logan resumed their kiss. Now that he’d finally tasted the other man, Logan realized that he couldn’t get enough. Summers was slipping off Logan’s jacket and soon Logan felt fingertips at the hem of his own t-shirt. He broke the kiss to help Scott pull the t-shirt over his head before reaching over and drawing Scott against him. Bare skin against bare skin. This was nice. 

It didn’t surprise him that Summers was a good kisser too. The kid had real skills in other areas, why not this? What surprised Logan more was how willing he was to follow Summers’ lead in the bedroom. _He_ should’ve been the one in control. Yet he was allowing Summers to dictate their actions and their pace. As if to drive the point home, Scott pushed him back against the bed so that he was lying down with Summers on top of him. Logan liked the weight of the other man. It made him feel real, giving substance to this crazy fantasy-turned-reality. He was nuzzling the side of Summers’ neck, contemplating whether he should bite down to mark him when a muttered ‘Shit,’ held him back. 

“Shit,” Scott said again, louder this time. “We can’t do this.” 

“We’re already doing this,” Logan pointed out, teeth grazing Scott’s skin. 

“Logan, stop.” 

There was no mistaking the authority of Cyclops in that command and Logan did stop, watching Summers with a mixture of exasperation and apprehension. “What now?” he said. 

Scott had placed his weight on his forearms as he leaned over Logan, but he sat back now, still straddling Logan’s waist. “We’re going to regret this later,” he told him. 

“I’m not,” Logan replied flatly. It was the truth. He’d given up on regrets long ago. 

“You’re not thinking,” was Scott’s reply. “At least, not with the right part of your anatomy.” 

“You’re _over_ -thinking,” Logan retorted. 

Scott’s face broke into a smile, the first smile that Logan could see reach his eyes. It took the years away from the stern mask Logan had come to associate with Cyclops and his impenetrable visor.

“I probably am,” Scott admitted. 

Feeling that a small victory had been won, Logan reached out again only to have his wrist caught in a firm grip. But Scott, who had been nothing but an unfolding series of surprises that morning, brought Logan’s hand to his lips and gently kissed his knuckles. 

“Not like this,” he said quietly. 

_Not like what_? Logan wondered. Not the glad-you’re-alive fuck? Not the I’ve-been-searching-for-you-for-a-month-and-this-is-how-you-repay-me fuck?

Yet there was a part of Logan that understood. Scott actually wanted their first time (and did Logan ever imagine that phrase would apply to Summers?) to _mean_ something, not to be some quick suck or fuck out of relief. Which yes, if that’s what happened now, Scott would probably regret it later. (Logan held firm that he wouldn’t.) The Boy Scout could be endearingly traditional that way. He always wanted to ‘do things right.’ 

Logan sighed in resignation, but not before he caught the fond smile that Summers sent his way. Scott was speaking again, a disturbing business-like tone to his voice that was incongruous with his half naked state of undress. 

“We really should call the Professor. May I borrow your phone?” 

Although their room had a landline, Logan agreed that it would be safer to call using his cell phone. “It’s in my jacket pocket,” he answered, motioning in the general direction of where Scott had stripped him of jacket. 

Scott reached for the jacket and rummaged around a bit. The first thing he ended up pulling out of it was his own visor. Logan read the flash of hesitation in the other man’s eyes as he held the object. There was going to be some story there, Logan was sure of it. Scott gently put the visor on the bed before reaching into the jacket again. When he finally found Logan’s phone, he also climbed off the other man to sit more comfortably beside him on the bed. Logan missed his weight instantly, but said nothing. He watched as Scott dialed a number, probably the direct line to the Professor’s bedroom since it was unlikely that Chuck would be in his study at this hour.

The following conversation remained a background noise to Logan. He was more focused on the ripple of lean muscle on Scott’s back as it tapered down to the other man’s waist. Scott was built like a swimmer, lithe and athletic with the kind of agility that Logan could only dream of. He’d always admired that body from afar like some kind of forbidden fruit, but now it was _so near_ to him. He wasn’t sure how Scott would react, whether a touch would be welcome, but the temptation to reach out was too great and before his brain could catch up to his hand, he’d already placed it on Scott’s bare back. Scott didn’t flinch or pull away from him. If anything, he leaned into Logan’s touch, even sparing the man the briefest glance over his shoulder. 

When the conversation with the Professor was done, Scott hung up and placed Logan’s phone on the bedside table together with his visor. Then he lay back down on the bed, curling into Logan’s side, one hand on top of the steady drumbeat of Logan’s heart. 

“The Professor’s sending the Blackbird for us,” Scott explained. “Ororo and Hank should be here in about an hour.” 

“You gonna tell me what happened to you?” Logan asked, wrapping a protective arm about Scott’s shoulders. 

The other man sighed. “Think that can wait until we get back to Westchester?” he asked hopefully. 

Despite all his burning questions, Logan discovered that he was content to lay in this strange bed in this strange room with Scott Summers on the verge of dozing off in his arms. Fatigue was catching up with him as well and he didn’t want to break the rare peacefulness of the moment. 

“Yeah, Slim,” he replied. “It can.”


	3. Chapter 3

The elevator opened onto the sublevels of the mansion, the headquarters of the X-Men. Logan knew that Scott would be down here, probably in the Situation Room, which is where the other man spent the bulk of his time when he wasn’t doing some solo training or programming more simulations for Danger Room exercises. Everyone on the team had noticed how difficult the simulations were becoming and how extreme some of the scenarios seemed to them. Cyclops had put them all on a steep learning curve, which made them even more curious to see how Cyclops would run the sims himself if – _when_ – Cyclops would join them again.

Despite spearheading the search for Cyclops and the unexpectedly intense reunion that morning in the park, Logan found himself keeping his distance once they arrived at Westchester. Sure, Logan made it his unofficial business to know as much as possible of what Scott was up to – he wanted to keep tabs on the other man – but that didn’t mean that the two of them were interacting very much. It was Ororo who dealt with Scott the most, keeping him up-to-date with the goings-on in the school and with the X-Men. Hank, by virtue of how much time he spent in the labs of the sublevels, also spent some time with Summers. Hell, even Warren would pay Scott a visit after a training session every now and then. But Logan? Logan kept his distance. It’s not that he felt like an outsider compared to the original X-Men. Thanks to his survivalist classes he was more integrated into the school than ever, but there was an unspoken détente between him and Summers. The air of hostility that had pervaded their relationship since the beginning had evaporated, seemingly replaced by Logan’s ongoing disputes with Warren. Instead, he and Scott were in some kind of holding pattern, trapped in a place where they were unable to go forward or return to what they were thanks to that damn make-out session in the motel and Scott’s subsequent withdrawal. 

Scott’s withdrawal had surprised them all, save perhaps for the Professor who knew Scott better than anyone else. Upon arriving at Westchester that morning, Xavier had been waiting for them in the Blackbird’s hangar bay. Scott had greeted his father figure warmly with a long hug and Xavier had returned the gesture. One didn’t need to be telepathic to see the relief plainly etched all over Charles’s face. The Professor had immediately ushered Scott into his study and kept everybody else out. They were in there for some time while news went through the awakening school like wildfire that Mr. Summers was back. Only Marie had been brave enough to accost Logan for details in the hallway as he was heading to his room. Logan had managed to divert her questions since, quite frankly, he didn’t have many details to give. It’s not like Scott had told him anything yet. 

As it turned out, Scott ended up not telling him anything at all since Chuck called the veteran X-Men into his study later that afternoon and briefed them on Scott’s captivity. (Summers was noticeably absent from the gathering, but no one questioned it. Everyone assumed that Scott was either resting or settling back in.) Logan learned that Scott had been captured by the forces of Dr. Stephen Lang, a name that immediately triggered a response from the original members of the team. Logan made a mental note to himself to find out more about the X-Men’s history with the good doctor at a later date. He was able to learn, however, that Lang had once been one of the U.S. government’s most prized military scientists, but Lang had gone rogue some time ago and now conducted his research underground, funded by powerful private entities that hated and feared mutants as much as he did. Lang and Stryker were cut from the same cloth, but whereas Stryker had worked within the shadow ops of the military and had used mutants to further his own ends, Lang and his hatred of mutants seemed to be even more extreme. Lang’s only goal appeared to be extermination. 

Amidst all the talk of Lang and his future plans, Logan discovered an important detail about Scott’s optic blasts. He’d known about the brain damage that prevented Scott from controlling the beams without the aid of a visor or the ruby quartz glasses, but he hadn’t known how or from where the beams actually came. Truthfully, he still wasn’t certain of all the mechanics (his eyes had started to glaze over at Blue’s extremely detailed scientific explanation), but where he had once assumed that Scott’s power came from ambient energies, particularly the sun, he now gathered that Scott’s optic blasts were the result of a psionic energy field that traveled through an inter-dimensional portal. (What the hell? The kid was so screwed.) In his effort to harness the psionic energy field for himself, Lang had found a way to cut Cyclops’ access to said inter-dimensional portal. Blue would have to conduct his own tests to see how he could reverse Lang’s work. 

But the most shocking detail to come out of the Professor’s briefing was _how_ Cyclops had managed to escape Lang’s clutches, which had little to do with Scott’s own resourcefulness and everything to do with Magneto and the Brotherhood ambushing Lang’s hideout. The Brotherhood hadn’t known that Cyclops was being held by Lang. They’d come for Lang’s research and technological advances, but Mystique had found Cyclops’ cell and under the orders of Magneto, had freed him. Scott had had no choice but to accept the assistance and he’d left the facility with the Brotherhood. In fact, Scott had been with the Brotherhood for three whole days before the package with his visor had been delivered to Wolverine. 

This was where the story seemed to get a bit murky, since the Professor wouldn’t go into detail about what had transpired between Cyclops and the Brotherhood during those three days. Logan had no doubt that Chuck knew – it wouldn’t be like Scott to keep anything from him – but he got the sense that they were getting the truncated, streamlined version of the story. Things were being edited out and Logan didn’t like being kept in the dark. 

These weighty matters, however, weren’t on his mind as he headed for the Situation Room. He had the not-too-simple goal of attempting to coax Summers out of his self-imposed exile. Of course, the trump card was the kids. There was nothing Scott wouldn’t do for the students; it’s just that nobody had had the nerve to put him on the spot since his captivity. Somewhere between the kitchen and the Situation Room, Logan had decided that he would be that person. He was done avoiding Summers. 

True to form, Summers was standing at the wide holographic table, which the team generally used during mission briefings, hands moving over the multiple screens that he had open. 

“Programming more sims?” Logan asked without any preamble as he strode inside the room. 

Scott looked up, seemingly unsurprised by Logan’s presence. Logan, on the other hand, was still jarred by the sight of an unvisored Summers, even though Scott had been back for over a month. 

“No,” Scott replied. “Revising mission protocols.” 

“Which ones?” 

“All of them.” 

“The mission protocols are pretty solid.” 

“Anything can be improved. Besides, they haven’t been updated in a while.” 

“That’s because they work.” When Scott didn’t respond, Logan added, “It wasn’t your fault, y’know. What happened with the twins? We did the best we could.” 

Logan couldn’t detect a flare of irritation from the other man, but the barest tightening of his jaw showed that Summers disagreed. Of course, Scott would take the blame for a failed mission. It didn’t matter that the twins and Logan had gotten away safely. It didn’t matter that he’d done the honorable thing by sacrificing himself. In Summers’ mind, it should never have reached that point. They could’ve been better prepared; they could’ve handled the firefight differently. 

Scott, however, chose not to pursue the topic when he said, “How do you find the new sims?” 

Logan let the evasive tactic slide. He didn’t come down here to fight. “A bit crazy,” he answered. “Ya got us fighting clones of ourselves. Like we need more than one Angel.” 

Summers grinned briefly at the dig at Warren, but sobered quickly. Cyclops was all business. “Stephen Lang is a cyber-geneticist,” he explained. “He’s been harnessing mutant powers. He wants our powers without us, to transfer that power into a body that he can control. That’s why he was attracted to the twins and their unique skill set.” 

“That’s what he did to you?” 

Summers nodded. “I wasn’t the only mutant at that facility. Just the only one that had training.” He shook his head. “You should’ve seen the others. A lot of them were just kids. Lang is merciless. He didn’t hesitate to use extreme methods to find out ways to extract our abilities.” He paused. “But he wasn’t allowed to torture me. He was taking orders from somebody else.” 

“You know who?” 

“No.” 

“But you have your suspicions.” 

“Yes.” 

“You gonna share them?” 

Without the ruby quartz lenses, Logan could plainly see the conflict in Scott’s eyes. He _wanted_ to tell Logan more but something was holding him back. The Professor, maybe? 

“This got something to do with Magneto?” 

Scott looked away, but when he turned back all signs of the frustration he had been feeling were gone. Damn the kid and his control. It was otherworldly. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked Logan instead. 

Logan tapped down on his own frustration at being shut out. _You’re not here to pick a fight_ , he reminded himself, even though Summers had just stonewalled him . . . twice. 

“I have a request on behalf of the kids,” Logan said after a moment. “It’s Movie Night and they need one more chaperone. Warren and Ororo were supposed to do it but they both had to back out at the last minute. So, the kids are short one chaperone.” 

Scott looked puzzled. “Who’s the other chaperone?” he asked. “There’s supposed to be two.” 

When Logan didn’t respond, the answer dawned on the other man and his face broke into a genuine smile. “You?” Scott said, a little too incredulously for Logan’s liking. “You’re going to chaperone Movie Night?” 

Logan steeled himself for whatever barbed jokes Summers would fire his way. “It’s not that big of a deal,” he said defensively. 

Actually, it was and they both knew it.

The barbed jokes never came however; as Summers nodded his head thoughtfully, a half-smile still on his face. “Movie Night would be nice,” he admitted. “I always used to go with Jean, but it was more for the company than the actual films. In a darkened theater, you can barely see anything with the visor and the glasses aren’t much better.” 

Logan was startled by the revelation. He hadn’t considered that at all. Summers’ mutant ability, while being one of the most powerful Logan had ever encountered – the guy was essentially a walking weapon of mass destruction – could be as much of a disability as it was an asset. He often forgot about the practical day-to-day things that he took for granted that actually hampered Summers, something as simple as watching a movie or seeing colors for that matter. If Summers hadn’t been depowered, would he remember what a blue sky looked like? How could he appreciate a gorgeous sunset? 

“Jean couldn’t help with that?” Logan hazarded, unsure if bringing Jean up was appropriate. Scott hardly talked about her anymore, but since the other man had mentioned her first . . . 

“You mean projecting the film into my mind?” Scott questioned. “She could but the strain would’ve been too great for a whole film. It would’ve taken away from her own enjoyment.” 

Naturally, Summers would always put everyone else before himself. 

“She did help me ‘see’ things, though,” Scott continued, surprising Logan with his honesty. “Just so I didn’t forget what a blue sky was or green grass. Especially if she wanted to share something . . .” 

Summers trailed off and Logan was at a loss on how to respond. The tone of their conversation had suddenly become too . . . personal, and Summers was starting to look melancholic. 

Logan cleared his throat. “That a ‘yes’ then?” he ventured. “To Movie Night?” 

The other man looked up, snapping out of his reverie. “Sure,” he confirmed. “So long as you don’t back out too.” 

“Hey, I’m the one who came down here,” Logan reminded him. 

Summers smiled that disarming smile that reached his expressive blue eyes. “It’s a date then,” he said, somewhat enigmatically. 

Logan held that clear blue gaze a moment longer before nodding. He didn’t know precisely what Summers meant, but there was a lightness to his step as he left the room.

* * * * *

Scott let out a sigh as soon as he was alone again. _A date_ , he thought to himself with a rueful shake of his head. _Lame, Summers. Lame._

The truth was he missed Logan. If most of the others kept a respectful distance, Logan might as well have been living on the other side of the state for all that Scott had seen of the other man since his return. It was puzzling, given how determined Logan had been to find him, according to Ororo and the Professor. He’d practically launched a one-man search mission. And find him, Logan had. Yet the morning of his return, after the Professor had sequestered him in the study for a private debriefing, Scott had sought Logan out to talk to him personally only to discover that the other man had taken off on one of his bikes (naturally). Scott had assumed, incorrectly as it turned out, that he would just talk to Logan later. The ‘later’ never happened. 

Normally, Wolverine giving him some peace would have been welcome except that he couldn’t stop thinking about their little make-out session at the motel, and the care and tenderness Logan had exhibited afterwards. Where the hell had that come from? How long had Logan felt that way or had it just been some irrational reaction after a month of searching for him? And geezus, he had actually _reciprocated_. More than reciprocated, he’d controlled the whole thing. He should’ve found it amusing that he couldn’t give up control to Logan even in the bedroom, but he was still too confused about what had happened to see the humor in it. What did his actions mean? How could he be attracted to Logan of all people? 

There was a part of Scott that felt guilty, even though there was no real reason. His actions and his attraction struck him as a betrayal of Jean, even as they paradoxically gave legitimacy to Jean’s own attraction to Logan. Scott was under no illusions. Jean may have loved him and chosen him, but there was no denying the magnetic appeal that she had shared with Logan too. Wolverine fit the classic ‘bad boy’ archetype, the unwilling anti-hero to his do-the-right-thing, be the Boy Scout type of mold. At its worst, his attraction to Logan was hypocritical. How could he justify his feelings when he’d condemned Logan in every other way? 

Despite Scott’s confusing mass of feelings and thoughts, it had been a relief to see Logan in the Situation Room and his suggestion to chaperone Movie Night had been more than welcome. They were long overdue for a talk. Logan wasn’t the heart-to-heart type and it’s not like Scott was particularly good at expressing his feelings (Jean had done the heavy lifting in their relationship, especially in the early days when he’d been painfully socially awkward), but it had to be done. Maybe Movie Night would finally give them the chance.

* * * * *

At around 5:00pm, Scott left the sublevels to head to his room to freshen up. He felt uncharacteristically nervous, as though he really were preparing to go out on a date. _Don’t be an idiot_ , he told himself. _This is not a big deal_.

Except that it _was_ a big deal and it went well beyond spending the evening with Logan. He was spending the evening with Logan _and_ the kids, and he wasn’t sure how the students would react to him. He’d cloistered himself off from the student body without giving any real reason. In the absence of an explanation, the students had come up with some of their own, building a crazy mythology around his captivity. 

The reason for his seclusion was simple. Failure was difficult for him to accept in the best of times; it became downright intolerable when he was feeling this low. The botched mission with the twins and his recent captivity by Lang had brought all the old insecurities to the fore. He questioned his shortcomings as a leader, he felt burdened by the trust others had invested in him, and all this was magnified by the loss of Jean. 

Jean’s death had completely devastated him. In the first few months after Alkali Lake, his grief had been overwhelming. There was a void in his mind, a silence that Jean had left behind. His despair had reached the point where he had almost left the school and the team. It was only the Professor, who had been the anchor in his life for as long as he could remember, who had helped him through his grief and convinced him to stay. Scott couldn’t run away from his responsibilities to the school and to the X-Men. What would Jean say to that? And so Scott had buried his grief so that he could continue. 

It had worked for a while. Throwing himself into the running of the school and the training of the team, particularly the new, younger members had served as an effective distraction. It had even provided a semblance of normality, but something had been missing. A part of him had died with Jean and he would never get that part back. 

_It was strange_ , Scott reflected as he headed to foyer of the mansion’s main doorway, _that Logan might turn out to be the missing piece_. 

The foyer, which was the default meeting place for anyone going to Movie Night, was already bustling with a group of students who were also spilling out onto the open double doors. Scott grew a bit wary at the sight that greeted him at the foot of the stairs. Logan and Warren appeared to be having some kind of stand off with Bobby Drake looking very uncomfortable in-between the two older X-Men. All three of them looked up as Scott approached. 

“Uh, good news,” Bobby said to him, clearly relieved by his arrival. “I think,” he added, looking between Warren and Logan again. 

Christ, Scott thought. Is this what it was like in the Danger Room too? You could practically cut the tension in the air with a knife or one of Wolverine’s claws. 

“What’s that?” Scott said. 

“That dinner I had with my dad’s investors has been postponed,” Warren answered. “Which means I’m free to chaperone.” 

The unspoken implication was clear. There were now more chaperones than was needed and judging by the way Logan was glowering, he seemed to be the most likely candidate to back out. 

“That is good news,” Scott said slowly, thinking the situation through. “We should all go anyway,” he stated. 

Logan’s attention snapped to him, a scowl still on his face. “This ain’t a case of the more the merrier, Cyke,” he said brusquely. 

“Then think of it as team-building,” Scott replied evenly, holding Logan’s gaze. 

“Works for me,” Warren said after a moment. 

Logan held out a fraction longer, finally exhaling a long breath before he growled, “I’ll drive.” He stalked out the front door before anything else could be said. 

Warren turned to him, quietly saying, “I don’t know why you keep him around.” 

“Team-building,” Scott repeated, smoothly evading Warren’s question as he gave the other man a pointed look. 

Warren took the hint, shaking his head with an exasperated smile before following Logan outside. That left Bobby Drake standing in front of him, looking both sheepish and impressed that Scott had managed to diffuse the situation so quickly. Before Bobby could say anything, however, he was preempted by someone else. 

“Mr. Summers!” Marie called. 

Scott turned to see Marie and Jubilee coming up the hallway. 

“We’re so glad you can make it,” Marie said, positively beaming at him. 

Scott returned her smile. “I am too,” he agreed. “So,” he said, walking out with the three teenagers. “Do we know what we’re watching tonight?” 

It was the right question to ask as the three of them immediately launched into a heated discussion of what was showing in the cinema. The answer was apparently, “No.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since X2 was released in 2003, the setting of this fic became some time in 2004. That explains why the group is discussing/watching those particular films in this chapter. And damn, 2004 was a good year for movies.

“When did that happen?” 

Summers motioned in the direction of Warren who was attempting to buy movie tickets for the entire group and was being helped (or hindered) by the gaggle of teenage girls that surrounded him.

“Pretty much since he arrived,” Logan answered. “Wings is very popular with the female population of the school.” 

Scott grinned. “Warren does have those Byronic good looks,” he agreed. 

Logan grunted. “Sure,” he scoffed. “If you’re into the Aryan type.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just call Warren a Nazi,” he said. 

“I _didn’t_ ,” Logan challenged. 

“That you _implied_ that Warren _looked_ like a Nazi,” Scott revised. 

“You’re missing the point, Cyke.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“That the girls are fawning all over Warren because _you_ haven’t been around.” Logan shrugged. “They had to divert their attentions elsewhere.” 

Scott actually looked affronted. “The girls do not _fawn_ all over me,” he objected. 

“’Course they do,” Logan retorted. “Yer just oblivious. That’s the difference between you and Wings. _He_ enjoys it.” 

Summers’ jaw had actually dropped open in shock. Logan thought it was comical in an endearing sort of way. Summers really was clueless about his own attractiveness. It was a sign of low self-esteem. It made Logan wonder what had happened to Scott that he didn’t view his looks as an asset. He certainly didn’t exploit them the way that Warren did. 

Before he could say anything else to embarrass the Boy Scout, Scott asked, “Do you want anything?” This time he was motioning to the row of concessionaries. 

“A beer would be nice.” 

Scott sighed. “We chose this cinema precisely because they _don’t_ serve alcohol,” he reminded Logan. 

“Never said I agreed with that decision.” 

Scott shook his head. “I’m going to get a drink and see if the kids want anything too,” he said. “Besides,” he added, knowing that Logan’s keen hearing would pick up his words as he walked to where Bobby and a small group had gathered, “we can grab a beer later.” 

Logan wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded like a plan to him.

* * * * *

Deciding what to watch for the evening proved to be more of a battle than Logan had anticipated. Since he had no basis for comparison, he didn’t know if this happened every time or if it was just the abundance of good choices currently showing in the Cineplex. Jubilee had plugged hard for _Mean Girls_ , but it was agreed that that film was probably better suited to an all-girls night. (“I’m not going to comment on how incredibly sexist that is,” Scott had remarked dryly.) The other real contender had been _The Incredibles_.

“I ain’t watching an animated movie,” Logan had said flatly. 

“You’re living in the Stone Ages, Logan,” Bobby had told him. “Just ‘cause it’s animated doesn’t mean it’s a _kids_ movie.” 

“You’re _all_ kids to me,” Logan had replied. 

“It’s _Pixar_ ,” Kitty had interrupted, sounding scandalized. “Their movies are _amazing_.” 

“Plus, it’s about a superhero family,” Marie had added, “and how they have to keep their powers a secret. We can sort of relate.” 

“I read somewhere that the family was modeled after the Fantastic Four,” Bobby had mused. 

Warren had burst out laughing. “Do you think Reed Richards is going to sue?” he’d said. 

“I think Reed Richards has bigger things to worry about,” Scott had replied. “So, _The Incredibles_?” He’d made a quick survey of the group, but when he’d reached Logan’s less-than-amused expression, he’d sighed. “How about _The Bourne Supremacy_?” he’d suggested instead. 

_The Bourne Supremacy_ it was.

* * * * *

In the theater, the kids occupied almost an entire row in the middle of the cinema. The adults sat a few rows behind them, both to give them a semblance of privacy while at the same time keeping an eye on them.

Before the start of the film, at one of the cinema’s darkened wings as the trailers were playing on screen, Logan saw Scott and Warren huddled close together. Warren was holding a drink tray while Scott was . . . Logan strained his eyes to see better. Scott looked like he was kneading Warren’s back. It was a strangely intimate gesture, making Logan flare his nostrils in displeasure. Warren hadn’t removed the thin spring coat he’d been wearing since he left the mansion and Logan realized that the other man was using it to hide his wings. In fact, he must’ve taped his wings down in order to keep them flat against his back, and Logan was secretly pleased at how uncomfortable that must’ve been. Yeah, he could be a twisted bastard. 

When the two men finally joined Logan at their seats (Scott naturally taking the seat in between Logan and Warren), Logan feigned disinterest at their arrival, as though he hadn’t just been watching them like a hawk. 

“Here,” Scott said, placing a drink in Logan’s drink holder. “In case you get thirsty. It’s not beer,” he added. 

“Thanks,” Logan said, surprised by the gesture. He picked up the drink – it smelled like a Coke – and placed it on the drink holder on his right side, freeing up the arm space between him and Summers. 

“You sure you’re going to be comfortable enough?” Logan heard Scott say to Warren as they both sat down. 

“I’m used to it,” Warren replied. “’Sides,” Warren added, dropping his voice but Logan could still hear him clearly. “Even if I could stretch my wings, there’s not a lot of space here. _And_ I’d be blocking someone else’s view.” 

Scott chuckled. “We could sit nearer the back,” he suggested. 

“Nah.” Warren gently brushed the suggestion aside. “Your little massage helped. Thanks for that.” 

“Anytime,” Scott replied. 

_So that’s what Scott had been doing_ , Logan thought. Probably easing the tension at the base of Warren’s wings. 

“Think I could tempt you to continue that massage in private?” Warren went on, a different tone of suggestion in his voice. 

Logan didn’t have to be able to see in the dark to feel Summers blushing. 

“Now’s not the appropriate time,” Scott answered. 

“It’s the perfect time,” Warren countered. “We used to do a lot of fooling around in the cinema or have you forgotten?” 

Just like that something clicked. Logan couldn’t believe that he hadn’t figured this out sooner. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen much of Scott and Warren together, but that competitive streak he had against Warren was making much more sense. His instincts had picked up on this immediately. On some primal level, Logan had understood that Warren _was_ competition. He was competition for Scott and the man himself had just confirmed it. Once upon a time, he and Scott must’ve had a thing. It had to have been before Jean. It was disturbing to think that Scott had been involved with _anyone_ before Jean. Logan probably wouldn’t be able to admit this, but he’d always thought Jean and Scott’s relationship had an old world romance about it. Try as hard as he had to lure Jean away from the Boy Scout, he’d admired their steadfastness and commitment. That kind of epic love just didn’t seem to exist anymore. 

Scott shifted in his seat. “We’re no longer sixteen,” he said. 

Warren laughed softly. “Now you’re just making me feel old,” he replied. 

The joke eased the sexual tension between them just as the film’s opening sequence began. Logan did his best to concentrate. He wasn’t the movie-going type, but even he had managed to catch reruns of _The Bourne Identity_ on cable, and he’d thought the first film had been pretty good. Jason Bourne had out-Bonded James Bond. The new Bourne film began with an adrenaline pumping sequence in India, but even though the pace of the film didn’t let up, it became harder and harder to pay attention. He blamed Summers’ proximity. After keeping his distance for so long, the other man’s scent seemed like a drug to him and he felt a little heady around it. 

About forty-five minutes into the film, Logan noticed Bobby Drake pulling the old yawn and stretch routine as an excuse to slip an arm about Marie’s shoulders. By the light of the screen, Logan saw Marie’s expression of mixed incredulity and fondness as she looked at Bobby, nudging him with an elbow before she got more comfortable against his side. 

“Looks like that classic move still works,” Scott had said to him quietly, his amusement filtering to Logan. 

Logan had been aware of Scott resting his arm on the armrest between them, of how Scott had leaned over slightly to say those words to Logan. He was having another one of those moments when his body seemed to be acting of its own volition as his fingertips gently traced a line on Scott’s forearm. Summers’ had uncharacteristically rolled up the sleeves of his blue chambray shirt and Logan could’ve sworn there’d been a burst of static electricity as his fingers had grazed Scott’s bare skin. 

Summers looked at him sharply, but Logan’s hand had already retreated, resting on his thigh as though nothing had happened. Logan could feel the look, as sharp and precise as though Scott’s optic beam was boring into this skull, but he refused to meet Summers’ gaze. After what felt like a long while, Summers returned his attention to the screen. Logan breathed a small sigh of relief, trying to focus on the film again. Amazingly, he didn’t start when he felt a hand rest on top of his own on his thigh. He glanced at it briefly before curling his fingers around the unexpected touch. He vaguely wondered if Warren could see the action in the dark. Holding hands with Cyclops. It wasn’t the first time it had happened.

* * * * *

Movie Night was a learning curve for Logan and the next lesson he absorbed was that kids needed to be fed after the movie. (“It’s a tradition,” Scott had told him.) It meant going to a diner called Juliette’s, whose owner was a friend of Chuck’s. (“Do they serve beer?” Logan had asked. “No,” had been Scott’s curt reply.)

“Scott?” one of the waitresses said as soon as their group had settled down. Similar to the cinema, they occupied the center of the diner where it was easiest to join the tables together in one long line. 

“Scott, is that you?” 

The waitress’s name was Lizzie according to her nametag. She had frizzy red hair and a very bright smile. Logan half-expected her to give Summers a hug; the woman was so damn happy to see him. 

“It’s been a long time since you were here,” Lizzie was saying. “And wow, your eyes! I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without those tinted glasses. They’re so blue!”

“You goin’ to take our order?” Logan interrupted rudely, earning an exasperated look from Summers who was sitting opposite him at one end of the long table. 

“What?” Lizzie asked, looking at him with a confused expression. “Yes, of course,” she said hurriedly, making a quick recovery. But it was to Scott she returned her attention and said, “The usual?” 

“Sure,” Scott said graciously, handing back his menu. He hadn’t even glanced at it. 

Lizzie flashed him another smile as she proceeded to jot down everyone else’s orders. It was going to be a long list with lots of milkshakes, burgers and fries. Juliette’s was a homey diner with a retro fifties feel to it. 

“It’s not retro. It just looks retro _now_ ,” Scott had explained. “The diner’s been part of the Davies family for generations. It’s one of the oldest establishments in this county.” 

Logan was starting to get the suspicion that Juliette’s was part of the X-Men’s tradition too. It didn’t seem too far-fetched to think that the original team had hung out at this place when they were teenagers or that Scott and Jean had gone here on dates. He didn’t know how to feel about becoming part of that history, whether it was intrusive or whether he belonged. 

The person who definitely belonged was Summers. Every waitress on duty dropped by to say ‘hello’ to him and to ogle (that’s what it looked like to Logan) his baby blues. When one of them – the tall blond with blue eyes of her own – shamelessly passed Summers her phone number on an order slip, Bobby finally declared, “Wow, Mr. Summers. You got game.” 

Scott sighed, folding the order slip neatly before answering Bobby. “ _You’ve_ got game,” he corrected. 

Warren, sitting beside Scott, laughed and slung an arm about his shoulders. “That’s just like you, Scott,” he said affectionately, “to care more about _grammar_ than the hot chick hitting on you.” 

Logan looked down at his plate, annoyed at the display of easy camaraderie in front of him. _They have history_ , he told himself. _A helluva lot better history than what you have with Summers_. But that knowledge didn’t make his bacon cheeseburger go down any easier. Damn, he really wanted a beer. 

A nudge against his foot made Logan look up. Scott was staring straight at him, his eyebrow lifted as though asking a question. Logan shook his head in response, but Summers must’ve noticed how his gaze had flicked to the casual way Warren’s arm was still slung about Summers’ shoulders even though Warren was talking to Jubilee on his right. Scott grinned and Logan _hated_ how well the other man could read him. Had it always been this way, he wondered? 

Irritation flaring, Logan was about to viciously bite into his burger but the foot that had nudged him touched him again, this time rubbing his ankle before Summers rested his leg against Logan’s calf. Logan almost choked. Was Summers actually playing footsie under the table? He glared at the other man, but Summers’ grin only widened and he didn’t move his leg. 

Logan didn’t move his leg either.

* * * * *

When Logan finally pulled up in front of the school’s driveway and the kids tumbled out thanking him as they left the bus, he remained in the driver’s seat. They’d used one of the smaller school buses and it had felt like a regular field trip. Only at night and not much in the way of education, but that hadn’t been the point. Outside, Warren and Scott were in conversation, the light touches Warren kept giving the other man making Logan wonder if he was renewing his proposal of a ‘private massage.’

Now that the bus was empty Logan should’ve driven it to the garage but he lingered, not really knowing why. Eventually, Summers patted Warren on the arm and the blond man nodded before making his way into the mansion. Then Scott climbed back into the bus, stopping on the top step of the bus’s entrance. 

“Still feel like having that beer?” he asked Logan. 

“Isn’t this past your bedtime?” 

“I can make an exception,” Summers replied good-humoredly. “So, how about that beer?” 

“Where to?” 

“I was thinking we could stay in. The grounds are really nice at this time of night,” Summers suggested. “Or we could go out if you really want.” 

“So long as we’re not drinking that piss poor Budweiser crap –”

“We’re not,” Scott assured him. “Meet you out back? After you park?” 

Logan nodded. “See you in a bit,” he said, putting the bus back into gear.

* * * * *

There was a bench in the back garden of the school that Logan favored. It provided a clear view of the grounds, especially the sporting areas where the kids would play baseball, soccer or any other outdoor team sport. Logan liked to watch the games from time to time. Tonight the garden was lit by the full moon. Scott would be able to see him as soon as he stepped outside. It had been a nice suggestion on Scott’s part to stay in. The peacefulness of the grounds together with the full moon made the night come straight out of a fairytale. The Disney fairytales, not the actual scary-as-shit Hans Christian Andersen ones.

Logan heard Scott approach before he saw him. Summers was carrying a metal ice bucket and he headed straight over to where Logan was sitting. 

“And here I thought it was just going to be one beer,” Logan commented as Scott set the ice bucket down on the bench. He accepted the beer that Summers offered him, raising an eyebrow in surprise at the green bottle. Moosehead. 

“I owe you,” Summers explained before Logan could even ask. 

“Didn’t think you’d have the time to make a run to the border,” Logan said, popping open the bottle. 

Scott sat down beside him and opened his own beer, the ice bucket on his left. “There are easier and cheaper ways to buy beer than making runs across the border,” Scott told him. “Have you any idea how much gas costs these days?” 

Logan purposely took a long drink, preparing for a patented Summers’ lecture that never happened. 

“I added Moosehead to the inventory,” Scott was saying. “It’ll be delivered with the rest of the supplies every fortnight.” 

Logan looked at Summers, mildly impressed. “Isn’t that an abuse of administrative power?” he cajoled. 

“Every teacher is allotted a recreational budget,” Scott replied. “I put the order under your name since you’re now officially a teacher of the school. So no, it’s not really an abuse of power.” 

“Imported beer as part of a recreational school budget?” 

“Don’t push it, Logan.” 

Logan hid his smile in another drink of his beer. He was already halfway through the bottle. It was a good thing Summers had brought the ice bucket. 

“Thanks anyway,” Logan said after a while. 

Scott nodded, taking a swig from his own bottle. 

“How much longer you gonna play hide-and-seek with the team? The school?” Logan asked bluntly. 

Scott almost choked. “I beg your pardon?” he asked. 

“You heard me. Avoiding your classes, avoiding the team. It’s getting old.” 

Scott was looking at him with a mixture of surprise and something close to admiration. Logan figured that the others weren’t so direct with their questions. 

“I don’t know,” Scott answered eventually. “Everything seems to be running smoothly without me. I don’t mind working behind-the-scenes.” 

“It ain’t the same, Cyke. The school needs you. The team needs you.” 

Summers sighed. “It’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” he said. “Leading a team of mutants when you’ve lost your own mutant ability?” 

“Is that what this is about?” Logan asked, genuinely shocked. “Yer power don’t define who you are.” 

“Doesn’t it? Are you saying that your claws or your healing factor don’t define who _you_ are?” 

Logan frowned. “I’m sayin’ it don’t define _all_ of you,” he emphasized. 

But when Logan thought about it, Summers’ power seemed to define him more than most. So many of Scott’s vulnerabilities seemed to stem from the fear that he would lose control and hurt the people around him. Everything about Scott – his need for order, containment, and the way repression came to him so naturally – all originated from having to keep the terrible power in his eyes in check. 

“Just ‘cos you can’t blast the tops off mountains don’t you make any less of a leader. It don’t make your ability to teach a math class disappear or how you go about mentoring young students. Ya don’t suddenly forget how to run strategy or design sims. And hell, with all your martial arts and hand-to-hand combat training, it’s not like you can’t defend yourself in the field.” 

Logan stopped abruptly when he caught the way Summers was openly staring at him. 

“What?” he asked irritably. 

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

Logan huffed. “Just callin’ it like it is.” 

“It’s still nice,” Scott said, grinning. 

Logan liked the other man like this. Summers didn’t seem so grim or serious all the time. Maybe removing his mutant ability had made the other man lighten up, or maybe he was just facing burdens of a different kind. 

“This isn’t how I imagined this conversation going,” Scott admitted. 

“Not enough threats or yelling?” Logan offered. 

Scott laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t think there’d be much talking,” he said. 

“Things could still go that way.” 

Scott nodded. “Because you’re more a man of action than words,” he noted. 

“Are you _baiting_ me, Summers?” 

“Are you being tempted by the bait?” 

Logan paused. This type of banter, laced with innuendo was new to them. Sure, Logan had thrown plenty of lewd jokes Summers’ way for the specific purpose of making the other man uncomfortable, but it was different with Summers open and receptive to his advances. Because that’s what was happening right now, wasn’t it? They were dancing around the sexual tension in the air. To buy some time, Logan pulled out a cigar. He immediately saw Summers frown. 

“Ya can’t object to me smoking this here,” Logan informed him. “We’re _outdoors_.” 

“If you really want to kiss me, you wouldn’t smoke that,” Summers said seriously. 

Logan hesitated for a split second before lighting the cigar. He took a puff before he replied, “I’ll have a breath mint.” 

Summers shook his head and finished his beer, but Logan could see he was smiling. The kid wasn’t going to win ‘em all tonight. 

A rare comfortable silence stretched between them with Logan smoking his cigar and Summers drinking his beer. They were both on their second bottle. Scott had brought half a dozen bottles with him, so there was still a third round to go. 

“Are we going to try this or what?” Scott suddenly said. 

“Try what?” 

“Dating, I hear it’s called.” 

This time it was Logan’s turn to almost choke on his beer. He turned to look at Summers who was watching him expectantly. 

“You’re serious?” 

“Why not?” 

Logan could think of plenty of reasons ‘why not’ but he didn’t particularly want to voice any of them. What had he been thinking? That Summers would be an easy lay? Was that all he wanted from the other man? To his genuine surprise, the answer was ‘No.’” 

“Logan?” 

Logan detected the slight hesitation in the other man’s voice, the lingering doubt that he’d read the situation incorrectly. Summers was going to backtrack if Logan didn’t say something soon. 

“I don’t know, Slim. Is that what you want?” 

“I don’t know either,” Scott admitted. “But I think so.” He paused. “I don’t really _know_ you, Logan. Not beyond training together or the missions. It’s not like we hang out voluntarily.” 

“That’s what you want to do then? Hang out?” 

“Only if you wanted to,” Summers said cautiously. “If this is just about sex . . .” he trailed off. “That would be okay too.” 

Scott hid it very well, but Logan could tell from the fine line of tension in the other man’s body that it would _not_ be okay and yet Summers had made the offer anyway. Logan knew an out when it was presented to him. 

“No,” Logan said quietly. “It’s not just about sex.” 

Summers gave him a small smile before shifting closer until he was leaning against Logan’s side. It was the most natural thing in the world for Logan to wrap an arm about the other man’s shoulders so that Scott was a comfortable weight there. 

“I thought tonight was a pretty good start,” Scott said thoughtfully. “Kids and all.” 

“With Warren as the third wheel,” Logan said dryly. 

Scott laughed. “Warren’s not so bad. He’ll grow on you.” 

Logan highly doubted that would be the case. 

“ _I_ grew on you,” Scott added. 

“Hardly the same thing, Slim.” 

Scott’s right hand had dropped onto Logan’s thigh, a comforting kind of presence as Scott absently rubbed his jeans. 

“You decide what we do next,” Summers said. “Whatever it is, I won’t complain.” 

“Really?” Logan knew he sounded dubious. 

“Yes, really,” Scott assured him. “But that means I decide what we do on our third date and you can’t complain.” 

“Ah, shit. You’re gonna make me watch _The Incredibles_ , aren’t you?” 

Logan could feel rather than see Scott smiling. “It really doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do,” Scott said. “You’ll be satisfied by the end of the evening.” 

“Yeah? And why’s that?” 

“Because I don’t put out until the third date.” 

 

**Fin.**


	5. Epilogue

Logan hissed at the heat that enveloped him. The Boy Scout was tight, just as Logan had expected him to be even with the time he’d spent stretching and preparing the other man. Beneath him Summers lay with his eyes shut. He could tell that there was discomfort there – not pain, but definitely discomfort. On the whole, Summers was relaxed, much more relaxed than Logan thought he would be and wasn’t that something? Maybe the Boy Scout didn’t have a steel rod up his ass like most people (including Logan) thought. Well, right now he had a different kind of rod up his ass.

It took Logan an incredible amount of willpower to pause his actions and to give Summers’ body more time to adjust to the intrusion. He was never more thankful for Scott’s flexibility as he leaned over, bracing his weight on his forearms in order to distract the other man with a kiss. Scott met him halfway, hands encircling the back of Logan’s neck as if to hold him in place. Logan had learned that morning in the motel that Scott was a good kisser. He’d learned tonight that the Boy Scout had a filthy mouth. Summers was just full of surprises. 

There were no surprises now as the hands that had been cradling his neck swept down his shoulders and rested on his forearms before making their way back up again. 

“Come on, Logan,” Scott breathed into his mouth. “I’m not made of glass.” 

Logan took the hint and resumed his slow slide into Scott’s body. He felt something close to completion when he was fully sheathed, never guessing for one moment how well he and his one-time adversary and rival would fit. It was almost perfection and he bent down again to give Summers’ a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. Scott, however, had other ideas. He shifted, the angle causing him to let out a low moan. 

“Right there,” he said.

Logan took note and surprised himself by beginning with a slow pace, gently rocking into the other man while making sure to hit that particular spot. In all his fantasies, he’d imagined sex with Summers to be different – rough, demanding, violent, maybe even brutal. It was too easy to think that their antagonism – in training, in the Danger Room, even in simple day-to-day affairs – would translate into the bedroom. Summers gave as good as he got, and the idea of throwing him against the wall of the Danger Room when they were alone and having his way with him had been a particular favorite fantasy of Logan’s. 

But now things were different. _This is what lovemaking is_ , Logan realized with some shock as he watched Summers stroking his own cock to Logan’s languorous rhythm, eyes still shut and lips half-parted. Logan didn’t know how long Summers would be depowered, whether or not the condition was even permanent, but he couldn’t let the opportunity pass. 

“Scott,” he said urgently, vaguely aware of how seldom he used the other man’s first name. “Open your eyes.” 

For once Summers didn’t resist him, opening his eyes instantly. In the dim lighting of Logan’s room, Summers’ eyes were still too blue, too piercing. And when Summers smiled at him, motioning with his free hand for Logan to come closer, Logan knew that he was completely lost. He leaned over again and it was Summers’ turn to capture him in a kiss. Logan didn’t know how it had come to this, but he’s suddenly certain of where he belonged and with whom he belonged. It didn’t seem so difficult anymore to stand by Summers’ side. 

But he was still buried to the hilt in the other man and when he resumed his movement, all those thoughts were put aside. He was only aware of Summers’ scent mingling with the heavy musk of sex in the air, of the hard planes of the body beneath him, of the welcome strain in his arms as he prevented the full weight of his adamantium frame from falling on the other man. He broke their kiss but stayed close to Scott as he picked up the pace. Summers easily adjusted, canting his hips just right so that he met Logan’s downward thrusts. It was Summers who came first, his left hand fiercely gripping Logan’s arm as he milked himself dry. Logan rode him through his climax, coming soon after him with something close to a low deep growl. The legs that were tightly wrapped around him released him, but Logan couldn’t bring himself to move away. He rested his head on Scott’s shoulder, eventually moving down to lick the sweat that had pooled in the base of the other man’s neck. Summers’ hands were a welcome pressure on his back, rubbing soothing circles. It was with a great reluctance that Logan finally withdrew, pulling off the condom, tying it and then tossing it into the wastebasket near the bed. Scott made room for him, shifting to one the side of the bed and cleaning himself up with a face towel that he had had the presence of mind to leave on the bedside table. The Boy Scout was always prepared. Why should sex be any different? 

“You’ve done that before,” Logan commented, settling beside the other man as he propped his head up on one hand to look at him. 

Scott was lying down on his back, eyes closed again and his left arm thrown carelessly above his head. Logan decided that he liked the just-fucked look on Summers. It was a look he planned to see a lot more of in the future. 

“You sound surprised,” Summers answered, not bothering to open his eyes. He reminded Logan of a contented cat. 

“I s’ppose I am,” Logan grudgingly admitted. “Was it Warren?” he asked, after a moment.

The question caught Scott’s attention and this time he did open his eyes, his gaze immediately landing on Logan’s serious expression. “Does it bother you that much?” he asked with some wonderment. 

Logan shrugged. “It bothers me not knowin’,” he replied, his free hand tracing the contour of Scott’s hipbone. 

“A jealous streak,” Scott said with a shake of his head. “I should’ve guessed. It suits you.” He didn’t look irritated or upset. In fact, he seemed amused and _that_ reaction annoyed Logan most of all.

“This ain’t jealousy, Cyke,” Logan countered. “It’s –” 

“Possessiveness?” Scott offered, cutting Logan off. He was still radiating amusement. 

“Why you –” Logan began but was cut off yet again, this time by one of Summers’ filthy kisses. “That’s a new weapon you have there,” he noted when the kiss ended. 

The self-satisfied grin was back. “It has its moments,” Scott conceded, turning to face Logan, fingers threading through the hair on Logan’s chest. 

“Warren?” Logan prompted. 

Summers must’ve known that Logan had that dog-with-a-bone air about him and wasn’t about to let this go. He sighed. “No,” he said. “We never . . . we weren’t ready for that. We were just kids fooling around.” 

“He still has a thing for you,” Logan persisted. “I can smell it on ‘im.” 

Scott sighed again, but this time it was a sigh of fond exasperation. “You don’t have to worry about Warren,” he said seriously. “I mean that.” 

Scott pushed Logan onto his back and Logan allowed the action, his left arm automatically coming around Summers’ shoulders. This seemed dangerously close to cuddling to him, but then he supposed he’d broken enough rules tonight. 

“Those tests with Blue,” Logan said. “How’re they comin’ along?” 

Scott’s laughter was quiet and muffled. “Geezus, Logan,” he said. “Is this your idea of pillow talk?” 

“Did ya think I’d just roll over and go to sleep?” 

“Actually, yes.” 

“That’s stereotyping, Summers.” 

“As if you haven’t been guilty of doing the same.” 

“Yer evading. How’re the tests with Blue? Any progress?” 

“Some. But if you’re asking me when I’m going to get my power back, then I don’t know. Hank isn’t sure he can reverse the process. Lang may have do to that himself.” 

“That son-of-a-bitch,” Logan muttered. “If I have to hunt him down – ” 

“That’s already being taken care of.” 

“What do you mean?” 

There was a long pause and Logan could feel Scott tense. “You can trust me,” he said into the sudden silence of the room. 

An exhale. A relaxation of limbs. 

“I _do_ trust you,” was Summers soft reply. He shifted so that it was his turn to prop himself up on one hand to look down at Logan. “Mystique is on recon right now in Lang’s HQ.” 

“Mystique?” Logan repeated, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. 

Scott nodded, his free hand absently tracing a pattern on Logan’s chest. 

“Ya tellin’ me we’re workin’ with Magneto on this?” Logan’s voice had grown hard and it was full of distrust. 

“Magneto’s been following Lang’s research for some time. He knows what’s going on better than we do,” Scott admitted. 

“This why Magneto kept you for three days?” 

Scott nodded again. “He wanted me to convince the Professor to help him. He promised that he would use Lang to get my power back.” 

“I s’ppose that’s reason enough to go along with it,” Logan agreed. 

Scott looked unhappy. “I’m not so sure it is. I don’t know if I want my power back.” 

“You can’t mean that,” Logan said sharply. 

“I don’t know,” Scott said. “I really don’t know.” He sighed and lay back down. “I _do_ know that we have to stop Lang. He’s not just a threat to mutants, he’s a threat to _humanity_. And the Professor and I agree that we don’t trust Magneto on this. The Master of Magnetism may need our help to bring Lang down, but given the opportunity he’ll use Lang’s research for his own ends. We can’t let that happen either.” 

“Another deal with the devil,” Logan said. “Who else knows about this?” 

“No one. Just the Professor and myself and now you. We’re waiting until Mystique gets back before we formulate a plan,” Scott explained. 

“Mystique,” Logan repeated, a grudging admiration in his voice. “She’s a multi-talented kinda gal.” 

“The best at what she does,” Scott agreed. 

“You are too,” Logan said after a while. 

“Stop,” Scott said laughing. “Compliments like that will make me think you’re possessed. Or ill. Or a shape shifter.” 

“Cyke,” Logan continued, ignoring the other man’s gentle ribbing. “With or without your powers, ya need to start training with the team again. A mission like Lang’s? It’s too big to go on without you. I’ve got your back. You know that, right?” 

Scott’s laughter subsided with another sigh. “I know,” he said. Then he turned so that he was facing Logan again, wrapping an arm about the other man’s waist as he grinned at him mischievously. “If I had known that sex is what it would take to turn you into a team player, I probably would’ve agreed to do this sooner.” 

“And here I thought you were a prude.” 

“You’re just easy.” 

“Only with you, Cyke. Only with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for sticking with this fic. I hope you've enjoyed it. 
> 
> The goal of this story was to establish the relationship between Scott and Logan. Along the way, I developed a more elaborate back story than I'd originally intended. I've purposely kept those threads hanging so that the pieces are in place for a potential sequel. 
> 
> I'm _not_ promising a sequel, but I've enjoyed creating this 'verse so much that it's something I'd like to return to. I just don't have it in me right now to write a big action-adventure oriented mission fic, which a potential sequel would have to be. I'm too burned out from the _Pacific Rim_ fandom and my ongoing action-adventure 75, 000 word behemoth over there. 
> 
> So, this is it for now. Thanks for reading! Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> The merry mutants belong to Marvel and Fox. No offense is intended, no profit is being made.


End file.
